


Thematic Thursday: Nocturnal District

by OfficerFox



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Bososuku, Crime, Gen, Historical, Street Fight, Thematic Thursday, other pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 09:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7355749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficerFox/pseuds/OfficerFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote this for this week's thematic Thursday: The Nocturnal District. This story was heavily inspired by Akira and the real life culture surrounding it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thematic Thursday: Nocturnal District

**30 years before the Missing Mammals Case.**

"Do you swear to live and die for the Capsules?" 

The fox opens his mouth, but pauses, his eyes darting at the circle of mammals around him. He is surrounded by all types of foxes; some corsac, some bat-eared, some swift, some red, some Ruppel's. All of which are either just under age, of age, or just above it. They also all wear red jackets; some with the sleeves cut, some with the front zipper open, some with it 'proper', some with the collars all the way up. Each of them carry some sort of rudimentry melee weapon; lead pipes, baseball bats, hammers, crowbars, and the occasional length of chain. The crowd has one last thing in common: A scowl that screams 'pissed off'. 

"Hey, he's talking to you, Clawtanabe!" 

Clawtanabe snaps back into it, his red ears perking forward. The corsac fox in front of him restates his question. 

"Do you, Tom Clawtanabe, swear to live and die for the Capsules?" 

"I-I swear." 

The circle falls dead silent, the only noises audible to the fox being the background of the Nocturnal District and the dim humming of the nearby neon signage. 

"Well gang, it looks like we're finally accepting Ricky's little brother tonight." 

Cheering erupts from the crowd, the noise echoing off the rooftop and down to the streets below. A grin developes on Tom's muzzle as he spots his brother in the crowd, wearing the sleevless red member's jacket, and a lead pipe in hand. To Tom's delight, Ricky crosses his arms, and gives his little brother the nod. The crowd gathers around the younger Clawtanabe and pumps their weapons into the air, chanting as they do. 

"CAP-SULES! CAP-SULES! CAP-SULES! CAP-SULES!" 

"ENOUGH!" 

The crowd dies down, their silence a worldess notion of respect to the gang's leader. 

"Let's ride!" 

The foxes raise their weapons, the pinks, blues, and other hues of the nearby neon signage silhouetting them. The crowd moves down the fire escape on the side of the building down into the alleyway below, leaving the corsac, Tom, and Ricky on the roof. Ricky stays still, a smile on his muzzle planted in Tom's direction. The corsac glances between the two of them, and dips around an AC unit, coming back around holding a pristine Capsules jacket. 

"Let's hope you're as good as your brother. C'mon, we've got riding time to make up."

The corsac slowly hands the jacket to Tom, who delicately slings it on, glancing over his shoulder at the capsule logo on the back, along with the text "Born a fox; Run the boondocks!" The younger Clawtanabe can't help but wear a big, dumb, goofy grin. Ricky places a hand on his younger brother's shoulder, grabbing his attention. 

"You think the jacket's cool, wait until you're actually riding with us." 

Tom chuckles, and hurriedly makes his way down the fire escape, across the alleyway, and onto his motorcycle, a 1970s Llamaha. He excitedly fires it up, and rolls into the crowd of other Capsules. The rider next to him, a Ruppel's fox, taps Tom on the shoulder, then has to raise his voice to be heard over the twenty plus illegally-modified motorcycles filling the alley. 

"This is your first time, so, basically, don't pass the guy infront of you and it's all good! We're not those posers who ride in lines and shit, don't worry!" 

The younger Clawtanabe simply nods in response. Suddenly, an uproarous amount of noise starts making it's way down the crowd. 

"Whelp, we're about to head off! Remember, nothin' happens on these runs, we're just showing off!" 

With that, the mass of Capsules pull away from the alley and onto the city streets. The stares from pedestrians, the nasty looks from above apartments, the sound of car alarms going off just from the noise of the pack; Tom couldn't hold in his smile: He was finally a Capsule. Maybe if his brother goes to college soon, he'll be able to move up in the ranks, maybe ev-Unexpectedly, the sounds of wolves howling echoes through the streets and alleys. 

"AW SHIT!" 

The sounds of tires squeling, metal hitting pavement, and metal hitting metal begins to float through the haze of tire smoke. Tom slams on the brakes as hard as he can, to no avail. The momentum of his Llamaha brings the bike out from under him, the fox falling off into a slide on his side, the toughness of his leather jacket already becoming handy against the blacktop. Laying on the ground, Tom slowly sits up in a daze, and looks around him. The scene is chaos: a small pile of motorcycles starts after an alleyway's entrance; a rope lays discarded, stretched across the road; and worse yet, it appears that the Capsules had been ambushed by their chief rival: Wolfpack. Several small fights had broken across the intersection, the fox focuses on one specific skirmish, and spots a bat-eared fox collapse to the ground after a wolf's swing with a baseball bat connects right on the cheek. The younger Clawtanabe cringes and looks away. Glancing around, he eyes another one on one fight, a red fox's pipe gets smacked away, the wolf picking him up by the collar. Tom squints, his eyes focusing on the familiar fox. 

"Ricky!" 

The initiate scrambles up, pulls out his weapon; a pool ball attached to a length of rope, and begins an all out sprint towards the wolf. Running across the intersection, Tom jumps over a passed out - or worse - brown wolf, and begins twirling his pool ball, the momentum building up with every swing. The fox's jowls curl up into a cruel snarl, his brow furrowing, his ears turning back. 

"Hey moon bitch!" 

The timberwolf, still holding the older brother by his collar, turns and spots a red fox wearing a Capsules jacket flying through the air towards him, a neon blue pool ball in mid swing. The most the wolf can do in the time he has is open his mouth to scream. Tom's pool ball connects flawlessly with the wolf's left cheek, the sphere traveling through both sides of his opened mouth, taking the teeth with it. The wolf drops Ricky near instantly, collapsing to the ground, the initiate landing on top of the wolf. Instantly, the younger Clawtanabe balls his hands into fists, swinging at the already unconcscious wolf, shouting as he does. 

"Pack tactics don't work on the streets, packit!" 

Suddenly, the initiate is dragged up and off the wolf. 

"Cheese and crackers Tom, he's done! C'mon, we needa get outta here!" 

The smoke had since settled, revealing a decisive victory for the foxes, all the wolves either knocked out cold or fleeing. Ricky lets go of his younger brother, and picks up his pipe from the gutter. 

"Hey, my bike's fucked, did your's make it through?" 

Tom spits on the unconscious wolf, and nods, still staring at the white canine. 

"Yeah, c'mon!" 

The brothers jump over the pile-up of discarded motorcycles, and pluck out Tom's Llamaha from the back end of the wreckage. Instinctively, their ears twitch, picking up the sound of- 

"Cops cops cops!" 

Tom hurriedly starts the motorcycle, kicking the action as the rest of the foxes flee the intersection, all in different directions. The brothers ride away from the scene, dipping down as many alleyways and side streets as possible.

Suddenly, more lights replace the technicolor illumination from the neon signage. Red and blue lights. And sirens. 

"Pull the fuck over, we know what you did!" 

Instead, the initiate drops a gear, and hammers down, the motorcycle easily putting distance between them and the aging police cruiser. Tom keeps his pace for nearly a full minute, the speedometer scrolling past 120 miles an hour. 

"Shit man, slow down! We lost that pig a few blocks ago!" 

The older Clawtanabe taps his brother's shoulder, finally getting his attention. The younger brother nods, and lets off the throttle entirely. Tom coasts the bike into an alleyway and comes to a dead stop, the fox's movements cumbersome thanks to the crashing adrenaline rush. 

"So, how'd those fangfances make all of us crash?" 

Ricky slides off the motorcycle, and slumps against the wall, sliding down until he's sitting on the cold ground. 

"Basically, they pulled a rope across the road, and it tripped up our bikes really bad. You were lucky, bein' in the back and all." 

Tom swallows, then coughs into his elbow. 

"Man, that was a close one with the moon bitch back there, huh?" 

"Too close, way too close. I dunno what I would've done if you hadn't showed up." 

The initiate snorts, and takes his pool ball out of his pocket. 

"Told you this thing was a good idea, that pelt's probably picking up his teeth still." 

"No shit. So, how was your first night of being a Capsule?" 

The lack of a response goads the older brother into facing his younger brother. Tom's brow cocks up, his ears rotating forwards. 

"Pretty fuckin' awesome."


End file.
